


Sticky

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: She swears she's dating a twelve-year-old in a thirty-two-year-old man's body.





	

“We’re going to be late if we don’t leave like 5 minutes ago,” he said, calmly, folding his arms over his bare chest. Marie glared at him from over her shoulder, popping her hip to the side.

“It’s _sticky,”_ she told him, as though he didn’t already know. He had half a mind to run his hand through his hair, but the white goop still on his palm would certainly be unwelcome. Though, surely it wouldn’t be entirely noticeable due to the gray.

“That is generally the nature of such things, yes.”

“Why did you have to get it all over me?” she complained. “I swear, no amount of soap is gonna clean the smell off.”

“Well, we did attempt it five times, per your request, might I add,” he said, infuriatingly rational as usual, and Marie groaned, adding more Tide On the Go to the white stain on her skirt he’d so carelessly left.

“Oh, Death, and right after I did laundry,” she muttered, rubbing the material together in hopes of getting the stains off of her clothes. But it seemed as though it had simply soaked into the very fibres. Marie huffed, looking at him. “This is all your fault.”

“You’re the one who insisted,” he responded smoothly, stretching his arms over his head. Marie’d refused to try to clear the stains whilst he was still wearing his clothes, so the breeze made him shiver, no doubt putting his nip nops on full display.

“Damnit, we should have used protection. What kind of example am I leaving?” she asked, furiously trying to get the stubborn stain out, and upon Stein’s snicker, she groaned. “Are you being serious- Oh lord, am I dating a twelve year old?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Twelve,” she insisted, finally just throwing her arms up. “Screw it! Screw. It! I don’t care anymore. We’ll wear the damn stains.”

“At the very least, you’ll be capable of understanding Hester Prynne now.”

“That red A was for Adulterer!” she said, all too offended at the implications.

“It was a mark upon her clothing that indicated she’d-”

“Yeah, but that’s not- I-”

Stein giggled at her once more, and she opened and shut her mouth for a moment before she threw his shirt at his face, huffing and pink-cheeked. “Oh, just get dressed, jerk.”

“Yes, well, you chose me,” he pointed out. “You haven’t the room to complain.”

“I’ll complain however I like,” she told him, watching as he struggled with trying to put the shirt on and realizing in that moment that his palm was still covered. “Franken, your hands-”

Whoops. Too little too late. Now he had white stains on the hem of his shirt and he looked down, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Oh my god, you’re a walking disaster! Why didn’t you wash your hands?” she asked, rushing over to the sink and wetting a washcloth, running over to dab at the marks. “Right after I made it almost unnoticeable! What am I going to do with you?”

“I can suggest a few things,” he said, the implication certainly not lost on her, and she felt her face heat up against her will. She was a grown woman, damnit. She-

“Eep!” she yelped, feeling him clap his hand down right upon her rear, no doubt leaving a white handprint as memento. 

“Whoops,” he said, dryly, grinning all the while. “My hand slipped.”

“Franken-”

“We should really get going, Marie. We wouldn’t want to be even later, now would we?”

“Franken,” she whined, feeling him rub. “You know damn well what they’ll all think!”

“Hmmm? What’s that?”

“Stop playing games, you pervert. You know what,” she said, looking off to the side and groaning. 

“I imagine that, were their minds not in the gutter, they’d simply assume the truth: that we got the frosting from the cake you insisted upon baking and remaking several times on our clothing,” he told her, his grin widening over his face.

“But their minds _are_ in the gutter! I’m…I’m not the kind of woman.“

“Oh?” he asked, giving her a firm squeeze, and she realized a moment too late that she’d started leaning into his touch. “Observations point to a different conclusion.”

Marie made an offended sound to cover up her slight, pleased gasp, pulling away from him just in time for him to miss her shiver, and not from the cold. “If anyone makes a comment, I’m pointing them your way!” she announced, reaching for the jacket she’d had the good sense to take off and tying it around her waist. She’d be cold for the evening, but she’d deal.

“If you wish,” he said, all too amused at the situation. “I can’t promise that I’ll tell them otherwise, however.”

Marie rolled her eyes, hoping she could get away with the excuse that she’d overapplied her blush to explain how pink she was. 

“Oh, just get the cake, Franken.”


End file.
